Stealing

Some weeks I write nothing, and other weeks I can’t stop. Grief is weird.

YouTube didn’t disappoint today. This gem found its way to my ears and the tears found their way out my eyes.

Many times, over the last six years of his life, my late husband mentioned that he felt like he was on borrowed time. A stage four colon cancer survivor, years of surgeries, chemotherapy, and everything that comes with the hell that is cancer created an urgency in him. An urgency to live like every single moment was his last. He made sure we never focused on what might happen. We were too busy focusing on living.

While he felt like he was borrowing time, I always felt like we were stealing it. Stealing back what the evil cancer took from us. Honestly, we’re all on borrowed time. We can’t predict what is going to happen next. And sometimes the unthinkable happens. Like it did to us. If I could offer one piece of advice it would be to live your life to the fullest every day. I’m trying to live like Joe did.

Some thieves are unwelcome, but my Joe was a thief of the heart. And he stole mine in the most endearing, sweetest ways. Kind to a fault, always making sure I was happy, leaving me little notes, flowers for no reason at all, always holding my hand, stealing kisses, loving me with his whole heart.

‘Cause we had a good time
Then it was sorrow
I call it stealing
You call it borrow

My beautiful man and his gorgeous hazel eyes only stare back at me in pictures now. He still holds the pieces of my broken heart in his hands somewhere on the other side. I know I’ll never get that part of my heart back. But I’m hopeful what’s left of my heart will heal.

And maybe, just maybe, “someone else is gonna need it too” someday.